


The Burn of Reality

by still_lycoris



Category: X-Men: Apocalypse (2016) - Fandom
Genre: Background Character Death, M/M, Mind Manipulation, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-05-31 06:09:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15113426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/pseuds/still_lycoris
Summary: En Sabah Nur thought it would be easy to take Charles. He was wrong.





	The Burn of Reality

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gerec](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gerec/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Seducing Charles](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5699965) by [Gerec](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gerec/pseuds/Gerec). 



When En Sabah Nur had first seen Charles Xavier through Erik’s eyes, he had seen Charles Xavier as a burning gleam of light, blazing with power. He had expected to take that light himself, another embodiment of his Godhood.

But Charles Xavier continued to shine, a blazing spark that burned – and could be painful.

They normally just became a part of him once the transfer was complete. It had always worked like that before. They simply become him, faded into his mind as though they had always been there. Even those that had resisted his might had faded away after a little while. Sometimes, he was faintly aware that things he said or did were influenced by another's desires but never anything difficult or disturbing. It was how it should be. They became part of his very self, as any that served a God did.

Charles Xavier did not fade away.

_I won't let you do this! I won't let you steal my body! Give it back! Give it **back!**_

His voice was louder than any other En Sabah Nur had heard before, ringing around his mind in a distracting way. He was still there, almost solid, looking as he had when En Sabah Nur had taken his body, changed it to his own. He struggled against En Sabah Nur's every move. He tried to take control of the body. He tried to reach out to the others, even as En Sabah Nur subdued them. 

_They aren't your puppets! They're people, they exist! You have no right!_

En Sabah Nur did not respond. Truth be told, he did not quite have the energy to respond. Reaching out with the glorious telepathy was slightly more difficult than he expected it to be. There were so _many_ minds out there. And the fact that Magneto's actions were silencing many of them somehow didn't help. In fact, it was strangely displeasing, hearing the thoughts silence and still. It was not what he had expected it to be.

He would become accustomed, of course. All powers required you to become accustomed to them.

 _Never_ Charles whispered. _Never. My body. My powers. You'll never have them. We will be free again. We will!_

 **No Charles** he answered. **You are mine now.**

He pressed Charles into a cage, slamming the metal bars over and around him, pinning him into a tiny corner, sure that soon, he would look into that construct and Charles Xavier would be gone, absorbed into him and faded into nothing more than a part of the glory that was En Sabah Nur.

But that did not happen.

He did not realise at first. He was busy rebuilding. Magneto had pulled down the world around them and there were many important things to be done. Rebuilding had to begin, the tilling of the soil, the selections of strong and weak and culling of those that might prove dangerous, despite his new glorious powers.

He thought long and hard about the fiery girl. Her powers were magnificent … _too_ magnificent. His control over her was weak. She was trying to slip through him, trying to find Charles Xavier, trying to burn the bars away.

No. She was too dangerous.

 _No_ Charles begged. _Please. Please!_

But he was a memory of a lost world and had no power over anything now. En Sabah Nur gave his Psylocke the order. She obeyed. That was that.

He spared the others. They were strong, they were capable and they no longer resisted – at least, not exactly. They obeyed his every command but when he did not order, they did not do. They just stood. Sometimes, through his control, they thought or felt and it was infuriating to feel their sudden griefs and fears.

Charles alternately raged and wept. Both were equally annoying. His sobs were soft but incessant, steady in the back of En Sabah Nur's mind until it became too frustrating to bear. Annoyed, bored, he caught hold of the cage and changed it, transformed it, using the bits of Charles's memories that stood out more clearly than they ever should have done now that they were part of him.

He recreated a study. A warm fire. Chairs, a chessboard.

It was easy to create his Magneto as Charles’s Erik. He knew Erik very well by now, after all. He knew how Erik should speak, how he should act. How he should reach for Charles and offer him all the love they had both longed to share.

It was a better cage for Charles than metal bars could ever have been. 

And yet Charles still fought it.

“This is not real, my friend,” he said with a rueful sadness and pushed the fake Erik away from him. The illusion broke when he resisted it and En Sabah Nur thrust him safely back in the cage.

_You think you can placate me with lies, En Sabah Nur? You think you can fool me?_

He didn't answer. He simply recreated the study, the chessboard, Magneto, pushing Charles back in there again, trying to force the reality of it. He focused on the heat of the flames, the feel of the chair beneath Charles's body, the delicate touch of fingers on fingers when Erik reached out for him. He could feel Charles's resolve wavering, his certainty that this was fake rippling with a mix of hope and genuine uncertainty. Reality was such a difficult thing to keep a grasp upon after all. Reality was what the strong made of it and the weak simply accepted.

Charles's confusion gave him time to focus on other things, focus on the world that he was rebuilding. There was so much to do, more than he had ever needed to do before. The world had reached such rack and ruin, the people did not know how to conduct themselves. He could control all of them, of course, but frustratingly, there were limitations. The instructions did not always stick when he slept – and he did require sleep, on occasion. Some did not resist even then but some fled or even fought and he did not like the waste of it if they had to be killed. It was better if they obeyed him as they should; because he was their God and they ought to honour him.

 _You're not a God. You're just a human with powers above his station_.

Charles, struggling again. This time, he tried a different illusion, throwing Charles into darker memories. He pushed him back into the time that Erik had left him, drowned him in depression and a need for alcohol. Charles curled up, bleak and wretched for a while – but it did not keep him. He struggled again, pushed, fought.

_I survived this. I survived this!_

En Sabah Nur changed the memory. He gave Charles his friend, his Hank instead, pushing them together, twining them in misery. He felt Charles’s mind sway, bend under the pressure, curl up on itself, wrapped up in the illusion.

But it didn’t last for long. It lasted less time than the Erik one had done.

_I didn’t do that. I never did. You can’t make me believe that I did. Get out of my head!_

**It is _my_ head now, Charles**.

_Never!_

Once, En Sabah Nur would have laughed. He did not laugh now. Instead, he created another cage, throwing Charles further back into his past, into the arms of his neglectful stepfather, his abusive stepbrother. Charles curled and squirmed, fear rippling through their mind in a most disconcerting way.

En Sabah Nur did not enjoy feeling fear. He particularly did not enjoy it when it felt almost like he was his.

Why would Charles Xavier not just _die?_

Charles pushed through his cage, just as he had pushed through the others. He crouched in his corner, metaphorically panting, perhaps bracing himself for the next assault. He looked strangely physical all of a sudden, his imaginary body shaped perfectly. Perhaps En Sabah Nur’s illusions had helped remind him of that. An aggravating side effect.

**Give up, Charles Xavier. Give up or I will make you suffer.**

Charles stirred slightly, his physical body moving, the mind that he clung to seeming to react.

 _Will you?_ he murmured. _Maybe I’ll make you happy_.

The comment made no sense. He laughed at it – and as he did, the world twisted and bucked around him. He knew that Charles was doing something, knew he was trying to fight and he tried to fight back but it was something ... something that he didn’t understand ...

He was home.

For a moment, he knew that he was _not_ home, that this was an illusion but the heat, the sand, the smell ... the smell ...

It was dark, the best time to be out, although he did not feel the heat as keenly as some. He stood alone, as he almost always did. They did not like him. They never had because he was En Sabah Nur, the blue-skinned freak from the desert. They would never like him. He did not care. He did not need their approval. He needed nothing. He had the love of his father and he was strong and that was all he required. He was not sad.

Movement in the desert. A stumbling figure. He lifted his spear, then lowered it – this was not a threat. It was a youth, not even as old as he was. A white youth too, though the skin was burned from the sun.

They looked at each other. The youth swayed a little on his feet but kept standing. Nur liked that. He admired strength.

“May I please have some water?”

The youth said it like it was a polite request instead of a desperate necessity. Nur paused for a moment, then handed him a water skin. Only then did the youth crack a little; gulping the water desperately before handing it back, shaking slightly.

“I’m lost,” he said. “If you can help me find my way, I would be most grateful.”

“You will die if you try to wander on your own. We will look after you until we can find others that will travel with.”

“Thank you. My name is Charles.”

The name seemed oddly familiar to him for a moment but he wasn’t sure why. For half second, the world seemed to ripple, as though it was under water somehow, as though it was not real. He did not know this youth, did he? He could not ...

He pushed the strangeness away, and reached out to take Charles’s elbow. The light fell on his skin and he paused a moment, waiting for Charles to react as others did; with revulsion and fear.

Instead, Charles looked at him.

“That’s different,” he said and then. “You’re different.”

His father always said that. He said it with love, admiration. Most said it with disgust and hatred.

Charles said it with familiarity.

 _You’re like me_.

His words rang but his mouth did not move. En Sabah Nur looked at him, excitement blooming inside him. Another one. Another who was different. Another ...

No.

He had been the first. He had been the _only_.

He roared and the illusion shattered. Charles stood in front of him, older again, staring with those blue eyes of his, smiling slightly.

**You think you can trick me!?**

_You think you can trick me_ Charles answered, his voice calm. _You’ve tried and tried again. But you’ve let me know that I’m in your head as much as you are in mine. I can trick you right back. You try to trick me with love – but I can do the same._

Furious, he threw Charles into a nightmare, a black, dark world where everyone was dead and gone and he was alone. Charles fought almost immediately, squirming loose, throwing his own world back; a delusion of companionship, a friend in a time when he had had no one, more than a friend, a potential lover, someone to grieve over when his natural lifespan came to an end ...

**This is not real!**

_Nor is what you offer me. If you can make it real for me, I can make it real for you. I suppose the question is, whose reality will win out?_

Once, En Sabah Nur would have known the answer to that. Once, his answer would have been so solid. He was En Sabah Nur, he was the first, the God. He had all the powers he had ever needed. He was in control of everything.

And yet, Charles Xavier was not dead. Charles Xavier was still there. Still real.

He fought back. He fought and Charles fought and it was a swirl of memories, of constantly changing pictures. Heat and sand, Charles holding his hand and smiling at him, Charles smiling at Erik, En Sabah Nur standing before him, En Sabah Nur offering him strength, En Sabah Nur standing before his pyramid, the mansion, the desert caves, hate, love, power, weakness, grief –

Everything stopped.

He was sitting in the pyramid. How long had he been sitting there? He didn’t know. He couldn’t remember. The fight had been a long one.

Erik was kneeling before him. 

“Master?” he said, his voice soft, uncertain, and then. “Charles?”

He opened his mouth to give the reply.


End file.
